Adventures in Awkwardness

WARNING: this is unreservedly TMI.  If you think ignorance is bliss, you might want to skip it.  Don't say I didn't tell you.

"Is there anything you're particularly concerned about today that you need the doctor to know?"

"Err...well, I guess I need the doctor to be aware that I have this birthmark on the outer area of a private part that I guess he should, ummm, really kinda know about." Private part? You're still 12 in the brain aren't you?

The nurse absentmindedly muttered, all the while typing viciously into her portable laptop "Really concerned about private part. Ok."

What is she typing? Is she facebooking the other nurses to report that I'm a big dork that can't bring myself to say the word?  That I request my male dermatologist, who's exactly my age, whose kids go to my kids' school and whom I glimpse nearly every other day that I need him to look at my hoo-ha?  "Well, no, not exactly, its just that, um, I mean, I have this mark down there and I know that if a mark appears not due to sun exposure it should be seen, so I mean, I don't know, I just said it to umm, give fair warning."  Dork.  You're warning the doctor via his nurse that he may have to look at your lady parts.  Its not Hiroshima, for fuck's sake.

"OK, we've been warned." And with a bemused expression, she exits.

Doc enters, proffers a cheery greeting and quickly leans into me for a light kiss on my cheek.

Have I just arrived to a dinner party? I'm so confused.

We then proceed to talk about the usual things, this is a Doc that likes to know his patients: he's genuine and friendly, so we talk about the things that tie us  - the mutual friends we have, the kids, the school, the work I do, the fact we both often pick up our kids...  I do not know him really, but I know the universe in which he resides.  Still, he's just my age, he's only my dermatologist and I'm basically all but naked except for bra and underwear and clutching this thin blue sheet, and

Shit, I forgot to take off my underwear.  

"So, we're going to do a basic skin check today and I understand you have an...area that we have not looked at before that you need to have looked at."

I nod.  Oh my...he's being as obtuse as I am. 

We start out simple: arms, shoulders, back, now around the bra, now lower...finally

"So, now we need to look at one more thing, right?"  Is that a faint drumroll in the background?

"Right, yes, I'm sorry."

"Oh, its certainly fine.  Don't be sorry." 

And suddenly I'm transported to the terrible skin check experience of 2006, where, a few months after my pregnancy a small mark appeared just below my left nipple.  I shamefacedly admitted this when he asked there was anything that he needed to check that was covered by my bra....so I pulled it down to show him, prudently covering the offending nipple that bordered the mark when he said, "I'm sorry, I really am, but I need to see the whole nipple for a second." and I released it, and a second later, I was duly covered and we'd moved on, but this...I suddenly realize there's a pause in the room, and I'm back, folks....

"Right, yes, I'm not sorry per se, but you know, I mean, I just, I felt it was better to be...

"...safe than sorry.  Yes, it is.  Especially in areas not hit by sun exposure. Now, do you need another person in here while we do this?" 

Is this a trick question?  Do I NEED another person?  If I say yes, is it a signal I don't trust him?  If I say no, will the dark recess of his brain wonder if I'm a tart that just wants to flash him? 

"Oh, no, its fine. It will just take a second." comes my confident reply.  Faker. Exhibitionist tart.

"Well then...." he says gently. Steps back, waits.

"Oh, yes, right. Umm. I kept on my underwear. I don't know why. I just need to take them off. Wait one second. Sorry."  Word vomit! Cease and desist! 

I quickly stand up on the foot rest of the examining table and without looking at him I pull down my modest light blue bikini underwear that I donned specifically for this exhibition  expedition today.  And for a split second I look at the blue bundled bunch in my right hand.  What do to with it?  Do my panties stay here, clenched in my paw like a winning lottery ticket for the duration? No! That's weird. And without a second thought, I toss them into the air, across the examining room, with panache.  It expertly lands on the chair in the corner.  Plop! Taaa-Daaah!  Oh yes, that little display much improves this situation.  What the fuck are you doing?  Silence briefly fills the room. Is he shocked that I just sailed my undies across the room? I know I am.

"Well, um, so, just right here, on the left, its..." And I'm trying to cover up and reveal at the same time.  And he's bending down and craning his neck and sort of holding up his index finger near the area in question, as if to trace an outline of it and then I realize, panicked, his fingers are bare.  No! What?

Quickly he speaks, now Captain-Obvious-meets-Doctorly-Noises "Ahh, yes, right, I see, right, well, there it is, its got a slightly irregular shape, its...wait one second, I just want to measure this.."

Another lumpy second passes between us.  He quickly measures, careful not to touch me, and then cranes his neck once more for a second look and pronounces it good. "You need to know that areas like this not exposed to sun need to be watched.  And I think that we need to just do a check once year to make sure its not undergoing any changes."  My face slides.  I think he notices.  "...or maybe once every other year"  he amends further  "...or if any changes take place." 

He leaves, instructing me to dress, and gets me a sample he mentioned.  I hurriedly dress, and he knocks earlier than I expect.

"Wait, just one second.." I pull quickly button my pants and pull my tshirt over my head. "You can come in now."

"Oh, my gosh, I'm sorry! I just didn't want to walk in on you too early. I didn't mean to... " he trails off, averting his eyes as I now adjust my sweater over my t-shirt. 

Umm, not 2 minutes ago your face was about 5 inches from my oonie, so I'm not terribly concerned about me putting on a second shirt in front of you.

"Here's the samples, you should just put this on once a day and let me know if that doesn't improve the dry skin.  It was great seeing you.  Take care of yourself."  Smiling, he leans, clasps my left shoulder, and places another very faint kiss on my cheek.  Why do I feel like this was some experimental form of a date?  If so, do I still owe my co-pay? 

Not seven hours later, I see what could possibly be him coming to pick up kids at the school.  I bend down to pretend to tie the non-existent lace of my shoe, passing the time, and wonder about how this small world makes me feel both safer, because we know who the players are and we're all invested, and then, at other times, utterly exposed.

What is your most awkward moment of 2009? It seems I got mine in just under the bell.

Moving to a new hood.

"hood" etymology:  a native English suffix denoting state, condition, character, nature, etc., or a body of persons of a particular character or class

Recently I shuffled my life around to be able to pick up my child from school.  That might not sound like a lot but it involves taking a pay cut (but not a job cut), hauling in a babysitter in the mornings and paying an exorbitant sum just to see the kids off cuz I now start work earlier, and effectively learning what it feels like to actually be with my child at a time when I never usually am.  To observe and be with him at a normal time of day, every day. 

The latter being the biggest change, and because I know I am the remedial Mom who, after being spending my entire motherhood diagnosed with ADHD in the remedial class, was given the basic assessment test again and was grudingly granted furlough, turning me loose on motherhood in a way I have not been before.  Literally, before this my child's exposure to me was maybe 3 hours a day during the work week, and less than an hour of it could've been considered actual attention paid to said child.  Most of the available fuel in the brain trust was spent wildly stomping on the desire to deal with details in lieu of dealing with the big picture at hand (just what in the fuck should I do with this small purple button lying here on the counter? keep it? toss it? what if I need it? I don't know!).  The big picture being so large it was just a blob, and the substance of it...just left me feeling defeated, and so I squinted at the picture instead, and pondered the fate of the button lying randomly on our desk counter for the last three months. 

But on that first day of school at 3:30 I jauntily walked up the street, eyeing other mothers trailing in from all different directions, answering the motherhood siren call.  They stand around unhurried, watching their kids play with each other and talking a bit, before meandering away from school.  They stand in pairs and clusters, in Tory Burch flats and worn expensive jeans, North Face fleeces, sloppy ponytails and modestly makeup'd faces.  Relaxed.  Its a scene, like anything else is a scene.  They are the Motherhood.  I want to fit.  I want to fit purely because I want my child to fit. (Like me?  Well, you'll LOVE my child!)  My child, who doesn't really do playdates because I'm never around.  My child, who doesn't have 6 extracurriculars, in part cuz I feel panicked that the growing stack of unread Sunday New York Times is a taunting detail existing to prove my willful ignorance of the world at large and must be addressed NOW. 

So after weeks of remembering names, trading smiles, proudly standing relaxed in the playyard, with the security in knowing that I too have the ability to leisurely wander away from school when we're ready, I came home to know that I could walk by the stack of mail and not twitch.  And the fucking button, its still there.  And when the requisite tantrum has been thrown by the three year old and the requisite googl requests for treats has passed, I will still have time to go through the homework folder and put something together that some may consider dinner.  These, little tsunami's all, are convincing of the truth of the adage "time heals all wounds", in an unique way.  Motherhood may not be my nature (see etymology above), but it is certainly more my state now than ever.  In this state, the big picture has form, and its substance is scalable.